


We're Surgeons

by SandfireKat



Category: The Good Doctor (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fix-it fic, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I didn't Approve so here I am, I wrote this instead of studying for pharmacology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 18:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18016004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandfireKat/pseuds/SandfireKat
Summary: She hadn't been there for him, lately.She wasn't going to leave him now.Fix of Season 2 Episode 17: Breakdown.





	We're Surgeons

**Author's Note:**

> Aloha. Claire straight up leaving Shaun didn't make any DAMN sense, so here I am.

I am a surgeon.

_'Leave him alone!'_

I  _am_ a surgeon.

' _This won't happen again.'_

I am a  _surgeon._

' _You're the smart one.'_

_I am a surgeon!_

I am a surgeon, I  _am_ a surgeon, I am a surgeon I am a surgeon IamasurgeonIamasurgeonIam—

Claire's didn't know what to do. She didn't know what she had walked in on. But whatever it was, she had stayed in it. She hadn't left. She had rushed, at first, to pick up all of Shaun's things, scattered on the floor like they had been thrown. Until she had realized, that perhaps his  _things_  weren't what she needed to be picking up. Maybe it was something else. She had quickly chosen instead to sit beside him…but she wasn't doing any good, yet. The initial shock of it all, combined with her sorrow over the state she'd found her friend in made her just stop and stare at him in silence.

She looked at everything—  _noticed_ everything that was different about Shaun. Her friend. She saw how messy his hair was, how flushed his face was. She heard how ragged and panicked his gasps were. He was curled up defensively, and clenched much-too-tightly in his hands, was…her heart broke. She looked down and searched the floor for a few heartbeats before she saw: the plastic blade of his scalpel. His toy scalpel that he loved…it was broken— snapped. She looked back at up him, fully realizing just how much of this was horribly wrong. She had no idea what had happened, but she had never seen him like this before.

Well…no. That was a lie. Now that the shock was fading away, all that was left to replace it was horrible, horrible guilt. She  _knew_ what was wrong. She'd  _known_ what was wrong, this entire time. She weakened, feeling like her chest was hollow and empty, now. "Shaun…" She kept her voice a small murmur and nothing more. Her friend cringed, ducking his head down more into his knees and rocking faster. She cringed as well, just feeling worse. He was mumbling something to himself, underneath all of his gasps and chokes. She couldn't make out what it was.

She felt awful. Shaun had been kicked off of surgery. For  _no_ reason whatsoever. And yes, she had tried to stand up to Doctor Han. She had offered him that list of cases that Shaun had contributed to, that he had likely put right into the trash as soon as she had left. She had defended Shaun to the other residents…even threatened action. Nothing had come out of that in the first place. But…putting that aside, what had she done for  _Shaun?_ Actually  _for_ Shaun? Nothing. It was just hitting her now that throughout this entire thing…she had said absolutely nothing to her friend. In fact…the only thing she'd really done…was tell him they didn't need him on a case because they already  _had_ people working on it.

All she'd done actually  _for_ Shaun, was tell him he wasn't needed.

She was an awful friend. An  _awful_ one. If her residency was taken from her, if her path was changed against her will, she would have wanted. She would have wanted someone to sit with her and tell her it was okay, she would have wanted someone to reassure her that there was a way of changing it all. That there was still hope, and not to believe that everything was lost forever. If she didn't have anyone there to tell her that…well, then, she would just believe…that there was nothing left for her to do…than…

She wilted even more, looking at Shaun with palpable sorrow. He was still gasping, still crying. Still panicking, and her shoulders drooped. She sat back against the wall, her eyes flickering to the door. She prayed that Morgan didn't come in here. She prayed that  _Han_ wouldn't. Anger burned in the very back of her stare at the thought of the man, but she was quick to correct herself and focus again. She didn't look back at Shaun, she just looked down at her feet. She held her knees close to her chest and rested her chin there. There was the tiniest beat of hesitation. Before she started to speak, still in that tiny murmur.

"Carbamazepine…is…an anti-seizure drug," she practically whispered. "It's…generally used to stop partial  _and_ generalized seizures. It's effective, but…the problem with it, is that it's an enzyme inducer." Shaun was still gasping, still refusing to look at her. She wasn't sure if this was effective at all. But given that it was her best thought on what to do, she kept on. "So…the more you take of it, the more it increases its own metabolism. Its own metabolism,  _and_ the metabolism of other drugs. So it becomes less effective, along with whatever other regimen the patient is on." She shrugged. "Another problem with it is that it can cause bone marrow suppression, and aplastic anemia. If a patient is taking it, you've got to check their CBC frequently to make sure that's not happening."

Shaun's shoulders were still tense, and he was still curled away from her. But – and she might be mistaken – she thought that his breathing was beginning to stutter. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but was quick to look back. She continued. "Now,  _phenytoin_  is used for tonic/clonic seizures, and seizures that follow neurosurgery. It's got metabolism problems too— its metabolism sites eventually become saturated…so even a tiny increase in its dose can make its levels turn toxic. So it's even more important to measure your patient's serum levels when they're on that." She hesitated for a moment before she leaned a little bit to the side – just a fraction of an inch – and sighed: "There's a therapeutic level that we have to keep it in the range of…but I…can't really think of it right now. I'd have to check."

She waited. It felt like she waited a  _while._ Maybe it was just the tension of the situation. But eventually, she relaxed and smiled just a little, when Shaun replied. His voice was soft and weak. It wavered like a leaf in the wind. But it was there. As he all but exhaled: "Be…tween ten and…twenty…micrograms per…milliliter." Her grin grew wider. She was practically slapped across the face, with how happy the simple response made her. Shaun curled even tighter, and continued to stare hard down at the now-broken toy in his hands. But he was beginning to get his breath back. She could see that he was still holding back tears; they were bright in his eyes. Glaring.

Still, she tried to keep the smile on her face. "Yeah— yeah, that's it. I forgot," she offered. This time her hesitation was shorter when she prompted: "But there's this other rule that comes with phenytoin…something about IVs." Shaun ducked his head, and curled his arms closer to his chest. "It's…something like, you can't give it too fast…something will happen if you don't do it just the right way, but that's…that's slipping my mind, too. I have to study up on my drugs, I guess."

Shaun's hesitation was shorter this time, too. "You…have to administer it slower than fifty milligrams per minute," he rasped. Claire's expression softened, when he gave the answer. She started to let go of her legs and slide them away from her more. Shaun was slowly uncurling, as well. Much, much slower than her. But he was doing it, and she wasn't going to rush him. Her smile just grew with more relief and affection when he added softly: "If you administer it any faster, there is…a risk of serious cardiac dysrhythmias, and cardiovascular collapse."

Claire nodded once, but said and did nothing more. She let him have silence, now. To get his bearings and come back to himself. She could see that he was doing it now— he was slowly calming down. He needed a moment, and she would give it. She simply looked down and studied her feet again, almost taking comfort in the quiet of the locker room, too. It wasn't too often in a hospital that you got moments where there was absolutely no other noise. It was nice, and it was peaceful. And it was what Shaun needed. They sat together in this silence for about three or five minutes. Before Shaun's breathing grew a little more normal, the color drained a bit from his face, and he could bring himself to speak again, still in not a very loud voice at all.

"I…am a surgeon," he croaked.

Claire's heart tore in half all over again. She was pretty certain her eyes actually burned, when she heard his statement, and the aching sorrow that was behind it. She glanced at him, to see that expression on his face perfectly encapsulated the defeated tone he had. Shaun was always pretty optimistic. Most of the time. He was always rushing to find a solution, to think of another way around an issue. Now, his eyes seemed dead, and devoid of their usual light. His voice was empty, like it could hold water. He had been moved out of their service only recently…not  _very_ long. But she could see how much it was already hurting him. And she knew he had  _every_ right to feel that way. Even more so than he was showing, even.

She looked at him and her reply came without thinking. "I know," she murmured. Shaun blinked a couple times, as if in surprise. He turned and looked at her, and she gave him the tenderest smile she could manage. It was sad, as well…but it was tender, too. "I know you are, Shaun," she repeated, and his eyes flashed again in a way that made her hurt even worse. "He just doesn't see…and that's wrong of him. He isn't looking at what you've done…at what you  _continue_ to do. All he's looking at is problems only he can see…problems that happen in the future, away from today. It's not fair to you. Because you  _are_ a surgeon. You're probably…the  _best_ surgical resident out of all of us, Shaun."

His eyes flashed again. He looked away. His objection was choked. "I… _want_ to be a surgical resident again. I  _am_ a surgeon. I'm  _not_ a pathologist. I am a  _surgeon."_ He was stuck on that, it seemed. Claire weakened. She didn't say anything, and after the burst of silence, Shaun went on. "I…spoke to Doctor Han." She stiffened, and perked. A frown was already creasing over her face. "I told him I was a surgeon." Already, she was feeling a pang of sympathetic admiration. She knew it must have taken a lot for him to do that. Which just made her angrier at Han when he continued and said: "He called me immature. He…told me to leave. Or he would call security."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself patience. She shook her head. "You see?" she asked. Shaun looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. When you first started here, and Melendez told you that you couldn't be a surgical resident – that all you were ever going to do was suction – you didn't fight back. You waited for him to realize, which you knew he would eventually. But when he put you on scutwork? When he took surgeries away from you? When he punished you more harshly than me and Jared? You didn't argue. Not at first— you just  _took_ it.

"And  _now_ you're standing up for yourself. You see that you're not getting the credit and the respect that you deserve and you're putting your foot down. Like— that idea Jared stole from you? You  _let_ him steal it. Just like you let everything else happen. But now…" She shook her head and looked at him, giving him a bracing smile. "Shaun, now you're  _standing up for yourself._ And you know what that is? It's growth. You're  _growing. Already."_ He blinked a couple times, looking unsure. "Doctor Han says you can't be a surgeon because of the difficulties you have with communication…but you're already getting so much  _better_ at it."

He looked back down at his hands. "Shaun." She reached over, very slowly. She put her hand down on his shoulder, and when he looked at her quickly, she was ready to pull away. But she stopped short when he said nothing, and allowed her to touch him. Her smile grew softer, and more affectionate. "Look…you knew that you would have difficulties that were different than the rest of the residents. That's not a  _bad_ thing…that's what residents  _are._ That's what they  _have._ Their  _own_  difficulties. You're amazing with surgery. You're  _brilliant._ You don't  _need_ as much help with surgeries as other residents might. You make different mistakes, but the mistakes even out. Residents are meant to learn. He's just not giving you that chance to do  _your_ learning."

Shaun looked at her dismally. His eyes flickered down to his shoulder. "He won't let me be a surgical resident," he declared. Claire's heartstrings pulled when she heard how broken he sounded.

She was surprised at the reassurance that left her mouth. "Other hospitals will. There are other residencies. Other chiefs who will take one look and you and your track record, and will be beating down your door. Jared found another residency, Shaun…you could too." He didn't seem at all reassured by this; he continued to just stare at her forlornly. Her smile dropped a little when she thought she knew what he was thinking. She kept her hand on his shoulder. "I'll miss you. But…if it comes down to it, Shaun…you need to find someplace that will  _let you_ shine. That will give you the  _chance…_ to shine. Because you  _can._ And It's ridiculous that  _this place continues_ to beat you down for mistakes that we wouldn't be punished over.

"Morgan can lose a patient her arm because she was too stubborn to listen to  _your_ reasoning? Park can tell a patient's husband something they explicitly asked him not to? Melendez can ignore a DNR? Lim can drug someone against their will?  _I_ can lose a patient because I didn't check their airway— which is  _always_ the  _first_ thing you're taught to check?" Her voice cracked a little at this. But it cracked even more when she pressed: "You  _mess up an interaction with a patient…_ just  _one_ little interaction…and you're  _fired?_  That doesn't make  _sense_ , that's not  _fair,_ this  _hospital…_ is not fair to you." His eyes were glassy with tears again. She hesitated, before she murmured: "I'm not even sure  _I_ want to stay in a hospital that treats their residents this way…Jared was shunned…you were removed, I was harassed and nothing was done…"

She was surprised when he objected. "You can't leave because of me," he whispered. Her face fell. "I can't…ruin your residency, too. I can't take it away from you, too."

Her chest ripped in acute pain. Again, her reply burst out without her knowledge. This time, it wasn't weak, or hushed. It was bracing. Almost  _angry._ "Are you kidding me?" she laughed, and Shaun seemed a little on-edge with the sudden change. "Shaun— you have done nothing but  _add_ to my residency. You've taught me so  _much._ You've taught me tricks to procedures I didn't know before, you taught me things I've never been instructed…but— it's also way more than that. You've taught me how to be a better person. You've taught me that no matter  _what happens to me…_ I should keep fighting, because who knows how it'll turn out? You taught me that  _everyone in the room_ can think I'm wrong, but I still shouldn't give up on myself." She was a little sadder when she added: "You've taught me not to judge someone based on what I think of them before I get to know them."

He didn't seem too sure what to say to that. He just nodded a little and turned away.

"You haven't taken anything from me, Shaun. You've opened my eyes to so many things— you've opened  _patient's_ eyes. And I  _know_ you could open Han's eyes if you just tried hard enough, but you know what? He doesn't  _deserve_ to know how  _wrong_ he is. He deserves to have you leave. He deserves for you to leave, and to—  _find_ another program, to get through it all the way, to become a  _world-renowned_ surgeon, and  _know…_ that he missed out on the chance to have  _your_ name tied to  _his_ hospital, because he was  _ableist._   _That's_  what he deserves, Shaun."

Shaun said nothing; he just winced. He was still holding tight to his broken scalpel.

"You  _are_ a surgeon, Shaun," Claire agreed, her voice practically shaking with how much emotion was there. And when he looked at her, she was positive her eyes were just as shiny as his were. "You are a  _damn good one. Screw_ whoever doesn't think so. You'll just prove them wrong. Like you've proven everyone wrong so far. And no matter  _what_  happens,  _I_ will be there. And I'll be there to say I knew it all along. That other people doubted you and they were  _idiots._ That you shouldn't have to waste your time on, anymore."

Shaun stared at her, stricken. His next words were hardly there. "Why are so nice to me?"

He may as well have smacked her. "Because you're my friend," she blurted out. Then, was quickly overcome with regret. She drooped, and shook her head. "I haven't been a good friend to you, lately, Shaun," she murmured sadly. "I didn't even say anything to you when you were removed. I didn't even…ask you really, how you were doing with Glassman." She met his eyes. "I haven't been a good friend to you," she repeated. "But…that was wrong of me. Because you've always been a good friend. You've supported me, and comforted me. I haven't done the same for you.

"I  _want_ to do the same for you. I want to help you. Whether that means helping you find another hospital that will accept you for who you are like this place doesn't, or…" She hesitated, before she pressed: " _We_ are supposed to be there for each other. Morgan and Park…they probably wouldn't agree. They would say it's more of a competition, but we know better. We're supposed to support each other, and help each other get through this, like we always have. I haven't pressed Melendez to fight back against Han— he  _knows_ how brilliant you are, and he  _would,_ I  _know_ it. I haven't…told Doctor Han I wouldn't have as much of an interest working at a hospital that shows such awful biases. I haven't told  _Melendez_ that. Those options might not work, but they would be  _something."_

She could see that Shaun was beginning to brighten. With that hope, again. With the prospect that maybe there  _was_ another solution to this problem. Another way around. She could see the very faintest ghost of a smile on his face…which brought a full-fledged one to her own. His blue eyes weren't as stormy; they were more like the usual sky she was used to seeing. But still, he croaked, with a voice still raw from yelling and crying: "You…don't have to."

"I want to," she replied simply. "You're my friend, Shaun Murphy. I shouldn't have let you feel so alone. I'm not going to let you feel alone, anymore. I promise."

This must have stuck a nerve. Fresh tears welled up in Shaun's eyes, and he quickly looked away, back down to his knees. His lips trembled a little, and he held tighter to the toy in his hand. He nodded a couple times…more to himself, it seemed like. Claire realized that her hand was still on his shoulder. She let it linger there for a few more moments, just long enough for her to promise: "We're going to find a way out of this. We're going to fix this." He nodded more. He stayed hunkered against the wall, but he wasn't panicking or hyperventilating anymore. In fact, there was a sense of peace settling over him, and he was sagging more, all the tension unwinding from his muscles.

She smiled again, more reassured this time. She turned and got back on her knees. She shuffled over and continued the task of gathering his things. She treated each item gingerly, taking more care and not just shoving them inside. After a long moment, Shaun moved and started to help. In silence, they picked up the mess together, and eventually Claire zipped it closed. Her eyes caught on something on the ground she had missed, and she wilted when she saw it was the broken end of his scalpel. His eyes landed on it the same moment hers did. His eyes grew a little mistier, again.

She just repeated herself, sweetly and earnestly as she picked it up. "We're going to fix this."

He smiled. Actually smiled. For the first time in a while, she was pretty sure, he smiled.

She returned it wholeheartedly. Held out the piece of plastic for him. "You  _are_ a surgeon, Shaun," she reassured.

He stared at it for a couple moments, before he glanced up at her again. Before he smiled – still very tiny, still not all the way there, but there all the same – and took it. Before he gave a tiny nod, holding the broken toy close to his chest, over his heart, and murmuring: "I know."


End file.
